Article Tools

Men are supposed to be the logical ones. The more rational sex. And to the extent that they’ll fetch a tool or phone a repairman when something breaks — as opposed to weeping, repenting to the callous gods of karma, and then yelling at it, as I typically do — I concede that guys are largely governed by reason.

But when football season begins, their logic vanishes like a bowl of Hot Wings Doritos in front of a flat screen on a Sunday afternoon. (I know, I’m generalizing. Brace yourself because I’m going to do it some more.)

Starshine Roshell

Football fans spend four months of every year hooting and rooting for teams that they’ve chosen to support for cockamamie reasons.

“Where I grew up, I was a Bears fan. It was expected of me. It was the right thing to do.” … “I bought my son a Broncos sweatshirt when he was 3. He’s still a fan.” … “I’ve liked the 49ers since I was young because games in Kezar Stadium looked so glorious when it was snowing in my native Ohio. And the red and gold looked much better than the hideous schemes offered by the Bengals and the Browns.”

They pledge their undying, unsound fidelity to a team because it’s the one their dad rooted for. Or rooted against … whichever. My husband still flies the Raiders flag because, as a boy, he loved Ken Stabler’s nickname, “The Snake.” My sons chose their teams because “I wanted an underdog” and “my best friend hates them.”

The worst part is the inevitable heartache these arbitrary allegiances engender. Men don’t tolerate mediocrity in computers, hamburgers, or James Bond movies; they want only the best, they know which is best, and they’ll argue it until you care even less than when they started talking. Yet a man will cling to his football team — no matter how hair-pullingly, primal-howlingly terrible it is — with such senseless loyalty that to even question it would forever blacken his own self-image.

“It’s all about the school I went to. No matter how awful they are, they’re still my team.” … “Over the past 50 years, the Lions have sucked — even set a shameful record a few years ago by losing all their games. But I remained loyal.” … “The Ravens have really good team spirit. They have good chemistry. And even though they don’t play that well, they’re still … awesome.”

Let me ask you something: Would you continue visiting a doctor who kept botching her job? Would you keep buying wine that was only good half the time — or look down on someone else who stopped shelling out for that lousy label in favor of one that was dependably (ahem, defensively) good?

I suppose such irrational devotion points to other strengths of character: A sentimental fondness for home. An ardor for the underdog. The belief that fair-weather fans are faithless jackholes. Plus, blind hope is sort of adorable.

“Someday they are going to be dominant again,” says a sports writer and Raiders fan I know, “and I will proudly say that I have maintained my allegiance through thick and thin.” (Tee hee!)

My oldest son, a Ravens fan, admits there’s no good science — or great secret— to choosing a football team. There doesn’t need to be. “Most people just pick at random because you know that whoever you pick, there are going to be thousands of people who have that in common with you,” he says. “And if you meet one down the road, you’ll have something to be friends about.”

Wait — really? Beneath all the banner-waving and beyond the hair-pulling, these fellas are just seeking an indiscriminate sense of belonging? Call me irrational, but it’s hard not to root for a team like that.

Ugh, what a gross generalizing column. I almost said that I'm happy you have no daughters to pass this kind of bull along to, but on further reflection I feel bad for your sons. Just because you don't understand something doesn't make it cockamamie, or just for boys.

The drive for humans to seek out a "group" and identify with it is a strong, often subconcious, tendency. Even when that relationship is a destructive one. Wish I could remember the famous human behavioral studies that bore that out.

I luck out!I live in Skins-Cowboy War-Zone, DC Metro is the constant battle between Red & Yellow vs Blue & White. I tell everyone, I have NO team, it makes NO difference to me who plays, who wins or what everybody else thinks, it's NOT my care.In truth, I support the Team that doesn't exist, the LA Team of.... That's right, LA has NO football team, not since the Raiders went back to Oakland and the Rams to St Louis, has LA had a team. Why LA, that's my birth City and SB my Home town, cause I was too young to call LA my hometown and I lived in SB for Twenty years; all my formible years. The Interesting part is if I had to choose Cowboys or Red Skins, it would be Cowboys, at least I have been to Texas for more than a fly-over or knowing it's place on a map, than most fans. I don't have to choose so I care little....

Sadly, I'm going to be the one to politicize Starshine's column, with help from EastBeach:

"The drive for humans to seek out a "group" and identify with it is a strong, often subconcious, tendency. Even when that relationship is a destructive one. Wish I could remember the famous human behavioral studies that bore that out."

I think this is the exact reason, why so many people choose a political group, and then refuse to budge. And, it doesn't matter that the group doesn't even represent interests that benefit them--as long as they say they do. It also doesn't seem to matter, when the chosen party actually shifts on the political spectrum in their views....